


On Diplomacy

by seatbeltdrivein



Series: Kink-verse [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: D/s, Future Fic, Kink, M/M, Manga AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seatbeltdrivein/pseuds/seatbeltdrivein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ling pulls a fast one on Amestris' Prime Minister, Roy is not amused, and Ed could really care less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [northonsunday](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=northonsunday).



Ed's feet were two sizes bigger than Roy's. It was an oddity, given that the man still had to go up on his toes to kiss Roy while standing, but then, Ed's hands were just as large. Not that Roy even normally thought of Ed's hands and feet, but when there was nothing else to focus on, well …

"You're taking your time." Ed ran a hand through Roy's hair and then used the grip to tug him closer, forcing Roy to shuffle forward on his knees. He was sure his knees would be bright red by the time he was allowed to stand again.

Around the O-ring, Roy let out an incoherent mumble and nuzzled Ed's groin. Ed's cock twitched, and his grip in Roy's hair tightened to a briefly painful degree, then relaxed again.

"Now," Ed said, more an order than a suggestion.

Feeling full well his inability to use his hands, Roy tried to get Ed's cock in his mouth. He stretched up on his knees to angle the O of his mouth directly over the tip, but the more he tried, the less his coordination seemed to be in tune. He ended up with a wet stripe down his cheek and across his nose. He could hear Ed stifling a groan. When Roy chanced a look up, Ed's lip was between his teeth, his face colored red.

"Might want to hurry," Ed rasped, shifting his hips closer to Roy's face. "Your lunch hour ends in ten minutes."

Roy's eyes stole a glance at the clock: ten minutes before one. So it was. He gave a short, wordless whine, but the plea did its job. Ed shifted his hands from Roy's hair to Roy's face, guiding him just where he needed to go.

Ten minutes was plenty.

*

Roy sliced his thumb with the letter opener three times in a row after Ed left, and all while trying to open the same envelope. His hands were shaking too bad to hold it straight. He could have someone do it for him, but the office still stank embarrassingly of sex. It would be another few minutes before his legs were steady enough to stand on again so he could open the window.

The workday wasn't even half over, but it was already one of _those_ days, the ones that left Roy wanting to spit every curse word he knew and run up and down the corridors setting things on fire. He didn't, of course, but the image was calming in and of itself.

A knock on the door. "Sir?" his secretary's mousy voice floated through wood barrier, muffled. "I have a missive from—"

"Thank you, Kathryn. Leave it in my inbox," he called. There was no way she could come in _now_. Roy didn't need that kind of embarrassment, especially not since he'd likely have to relay the entire thing to Ed later that night. It was bad enough that he was already sure she suspected what he got up to when his unofficial spouse came for lunch.

Roy shifted in his seat and pushed his bangs from his eyes. His face felt hot, was probably still flushed. He didn't need to think about Ed, or about – about anything like _that_ , not when he was still rock hard.

Kathryn left immediately. She always could be trusted to do as he asked. Roy could hear her heels clacking all the way back to her desk, but his mind was already spinning the tale of what could have happened, of that poor young lady walking in and raising her nose in the air like a dog at the smell. She'd go red, of course, even redder than Roy himself already was, and she'd probably stammer out her excuses. She might even drop the papers she was trying to deliver, and Roy couldn't very well let a lady drown in her own distress. Like a fool, he would have hopped to his feet and offered help, thereby giving her a first class glance at the Prime Minister's erection straining against the fabric of his uniform trousers.

The thought was suitably humiliating. Though Roy was thankful that she'd minded her business and stayed out of his office, that snide little voice still spoke up in the back of his mind, the one that sounded just like Ed when he really got into it: _You probably wouldn't have cared. You'd have pulled your dick out and gotten off right there – I know how you love people watching._

Roy pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, stifling a groan. He would have, fuck, but he would have. He wanted off so badly. Ed always left him like that – with his come still sticky on Roy's lips and his boot between Roy's legs as he'd say, "Don't touch yourself." It was always, always a command, and Roy couldn't disobey.

Letting out a shaky breath, Roy turned his eyes to the clock. A quarter 'til two.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't sit there and just ignore the fact that he was leaking into his own goddamn pants, or that he was gagging for it so badly he wanted to run to the men's room and toss one off in the stall, like he'd done in boot camp.

If he touched himself, Ed would know. Ed always knew. He was probably sitting at home laughing, because he _knew_ Roy wouldn't be able to contain himself. Ed probably had a million and one ways to teach Roy the, as he laughingly referred to it, _benefits of obedience._

The thought only made Roy harder.

His office door was unlocked. Anyone, at any moment, could walk in. But Roy was already pushing his chair back just enough to reach down and unzip his fly. The fabric gave, and that alone was a blessed relief. When he actually reached in and pulled his cock out, it was like walking into a freezer after three months in the desert. He had to bite his lip so hard he almost felt like he'd draw blood, but Roy was beyond caring. He didn't even need lotion. Smearing the beads of moisture gathered at the head, all Roy had to do was spit generously on his hand, give his cock a few sure strokes and a squeeze, and he was off running.

He could picture Ed standing there, one hand on the desk, leaning over it and staring at Roy tugging himself off with sharp gold eyes. Roy could practically hear him: _Can't keep your hands off yourself, can you?_

Roy came so hard his vision went spotty, Ed's name tripping off his tongue in stuttered syllables. It wasn't until several minutes later, when he'd finally caught his breath, that Roy realized that he’d left his handkerchief in his other pants.

*

The open window aired his office for a good ten minutes before Roy chanced having his secretary return. His jacket was off, splayed over his lap – Roy was immensely thankful he was well-covered behind his desk – and Kathryn apparently took the bit of flush left staining his face as a sign of simply being overheated.

She didn't know the half of it.

"As I was saying, sir, you received a missive from the Xingese embassy about an hour ago." She looked nervous and kept patting her tightly curled hair with her free hand, the other holding tight to a paper. "It's rather urgent, but I told them you were busy—"

"Give it here," Roy said briskly, holding out his hand. It didn't occur to him which hand he'd just offered until Kathryn’s fingers brushed against his own. It was a credit to his self-control that he managed not to show his discomfort.

Or rather, that he managed to keep it bottled until he took a look at the missive.

"This can't be right." He looked up. "Who brought this?"

"A woman," she said, flustered. "I can't recall—her family name was Yao, though." She gave Roy a significant look.

Roy took a deep breath and nodded. "And when, exactly, is this supposed to be happening?"

"She said, and I quote," her face went very serious, "the emperor will arrive at precisely four o'clock on the delegation’s private train from the east. He looks forward to spending time with Prime Minister Mustang."

Four o'clock? The _emperor_? Roy wanted to beat his head against his desk. That didn't leave nearly enough time to prepare! "What I want to know," he said stiffly, "is why the emperor himself is coming rather than the delegation he promised?" Did that idiot not realize how difficult it was going to be to keep this from the press? Not to mention the security he'd have to extend.

Screw beating his head against the desk. Roy wanted to beat _Ling's_ head against the desk.

"Forgive me, sir, but have you considered that perhaps the emperor was in a position where it might be unwise for him to give you advance warning?" she suggested. "Given the, ah, familial strain in his court…"

She had a point – not that Roy was willing to admit that aloud. Given the numerous attempts on the emperor's life that had occurred in the past year alone, Roy hadn't been surprised to hear that the man's personal guard had shifted from vigilant to borderline paranoid. "I don't suppose it actually matters now. Get in contact with the motor pool. We'll need to arrange the car—my personal car, actually. And suitable lodgings. The Xingese embassy would have been fine for a normal delegate, but for the emperor—"

"Ah, about that," she broke in, sounding frighteningly apologetic. "Look at the very end of the missive, sir."

The very end? Roy scanned all the way down, to the two lines above the emperor's signature and seal.

 _I very much look forward to enjoying Amestris from the comfort of your home. Having friends is wonderful, isn't it?_

Very carefully, very quietly, Roy set the paper down on his desk and touched his hands together, then placed them both on the missive.

He was certain no one would blame him for setting a fire in the office _this_ time.

*

Emperor Ling Yao was best known to Amestrians as the counterpart to their own Prime Minister. He worked tirelessly alongside Prime Minister Mustang to improve international relations and was the country's main source of imported goods.

To Roy, Ling Yao was nothing but a pain in his ass, existing solely to interrupt his life.

"I do love trains," the emperor was saying. Though he'd looked regal stepping off the train with his hair wound high atop his head and his robes perfectly folded around his body, the moment they'd climbed into Roy's car, the man had shed the royal persona piece by piece. He was just pulling the last golden roller from his hair, grinning at Roy so widely that his eyes were nothing more than happy slits. Had it not been for the three masked guards sitting silently in the backseat with them, Roy could have easily fooled himself into believing Ling was a normal person – or as normal as Ling could get, anyway.

"Personally," Roy replied, "I hate them."

"That is most unfortunate," Ling said, "as I was planning on inviting you and Edward to Xing soon in return for your generous hospitality!" Ling's grin widened impossibly. "You can hardly deny me the chance to have you both in my palace."

"Ed's very busy," Roy said tersely. In his mind, he was cursing what he knew would be an inevitable international trip. Ling was correct in that Roy couldn't exactly refuse the emperor's offer.

"Is he?" Ling asked, his voice taking on a sly edge. "Has he gotten a job? Alphonse complains endlessly of his brother's inactivity—"

"Edward is self-employed." Roy answered before he could stop himself, and nearly rolled his eyes. At least Ed wasn't there to hear them.

"Very impressive," Ling said, managing to make the compliment a dubious one. "I look forward to seeing what he's accomplished in our time apart." He gave Roy a look then, an unreadable one that made Roy shift awkwardly in his seat.

The sooner they got home, Roy decided, the better.

He'd requested his secretary to forward a call to Ed, but there was no telling whether he'd received it. Ed was likely in the office, his shoes kicked off and his feet propped up on the desk while he pored over some alchemical journal or other. He likely would make no effort to look put-together when he heard the front door open.

Ed and he had already had _plans_ for the night. Roy was to dine with the delegate at the embassy, and then he'd planned on heading straight to their home. One of them, in any case. It was the only home that legally belonged to Ed, deed and all: a three-storey house just where the residential district of Central City began. It was slightly bigger than the homes that followed it, a necessity to accommodate a large enough kitchen to meet the staff chef's demands on the off-chance they planned to entertain there.

And here the chance was. "You have a lovely house," was the first thing Ling said when the car pulled through the gates, bringing the quaint brick home fully into view. The second was, "I especially enjoy the gargoyle sitting in front of the doors. Tell me, how is it that you go inside? A hidden tunnel?" The guards that had accompanied Ling were all leaning to the side to get a look at it.

Well, no, actually, there _wasn't_ a hidden tunnel. There was, however, a gargoyle, much to Roy's surprise. It was a large ugly, stone thing, twice the height and width of Roy and quite a bit fiercer looking. As they stepped out of the car and made their way up the short front walk to the three steps leading to the front door, Roy's eyebrows steadily inched up his forehead, reaching for his hairline.

Apparently, Ed had received the call – and not well.

"No matter," Ling declared cheerfully – _was he ever not cheerful?_ – and pulled off his robes, hefting the heavy load of fabric into one of his befuddled guard's arms and leaving him standing in just white cloth pants and with a matching loose tunic. "I will see to Edward."

Before Roy could dissuade his guest, Ling hopped onto the gargoyle’s head and jumped – _jumped!_ – to the ledge of a second-storey window, which he then proceeded to open and climb through. He paused to look down at Roy and the befuddled security detail and say, "I will be with you momentarily!" before disappearing altogether. Roy took a slow, deep breath and wondered if he could get away with killing the emperor without causing a war.

Unfortunately, he didn't think he was that lucky.

It took Roy mere seconds to destroy the gargoyle and get in the front door. Ling must have thought him an amateur. He'd been living with Ed for _years_. A single statue was nothing.

Immediately inside - where had Ling's guard gone? – he could hear raised voices – or rather, _a_ raised voice. Ed sounded indignant, and between every pause he gave, a low, lilting murmur would sound: Ling's voice.

Then the conversation lapsed altogether, and Ed's uneven gait could be heard pounding down the stairs. "… could've _called_ , idiot!"

"It was a very last moment decision," came Ling's response. It was followed quickly with, "I wished to surprise you!"

"Consider it done," Ed said dryly, and stepped off the stairs. He gave Roy a flat look and diverted down the hall toward the kitchen, banging the door open and disappearing inside.

Ling seemed completely unruffled. "Roy," he said, inclining his head before following Ed. "I see you made it inside."

"It was a statue," Roy muttered, walking quickly after them. No one was listening to him. Ed had already taken off into another diatribe against Ling, and Ling was nodding pleasantly while rifling through the shelves of the main pantry looking for food to sneak, and every so often passing interested glances toward the rest of the kitchen. It was impressive, by far the largest room in the house, and at odds with the casual feel of the rest of it. Roy still didn't quite understand the purpose of having two ovens and a separate room entirely for the freezer, but he supposed that wasn't something he needed to worry about.

Roy stood in the kitchen doorway, at a loss. For the first time in his working memory, he very suddenly felt like a third wheel.

It was the strangest thing, like walking a thin line between being simply territorial and resisting the urge to stomp his feet and demand that Ed look at him. Either could end in embarrassment.

Dinner would be difficult. Dining with diplomats and other world leaders was always difficult. Roy was in the middle of running through possible meal settings and who should and should not be invited – _would it be appropriate to invite the elderly Mrs. Bradley and her demonic son?_ – when Ling made an offhand comment about having only his guard with him for the moment, and would it be possible to stay in for the night?

"Roy can cook," Ed volunteered immediately. When Ling gave the thumbs-up, Ed mouthed to Roy, _feel free to poison him._

Roy just rolled his eyes and went to the icebox. There would be no staff in the house until tomorrow morning – in this house, Ed made a luxury of their privacy – but the staff cook set aside meals in the icebox for them. Roy would have to raise that man's pay, because those weekly stock-ups tended to save him and Ed on those more distractible nights. Roy pulled one out and scanned the directions stuck to the top of the casserole dish.

Venison pie. Put it in the oven for forty-five minutes. Easy enough.

Wasting those minutes, unfortunately, was not. Ed was set on forcing every detail about his brother that he could out of Ling, and while Roy quite liked hearing about Al, even he could tell the emperor was taking substantial liberties with his stories. Somehow, Roy just couldn't see Al keeping three women to himself a night, or getting outrageously drunk and stealing the Chang clan's horses.

When the oven finally sounded, Roy was about ready to jump out of his skin. He excused himself – happily – and went to pull the dish out of the oven. After a brief scare of nearly dropping the pan and burning the ever-loving hell out of his thumb, Roy set it on the stovetop and, cursing under his breath with his thumb jammed into his mouth, went upstairs to change.

At least the guest rooms were downstairs (unfortunately, they were also next to the kitchen, which meant Ling would spend the entire night stealing their food), though that didn't entirely make up for the entire debacle. Roy had had _plans_ , damnit! And instead of spending the evening naked, he was going to spend it listening to Ling’s apparently endless supply of bullshit stories, his shameless egotism, and his merry attempts to antagonize them both.

He tugged his jacket off and shrugged out of his button-down. When Ed stormed into the room and slammed the door behind him, Roy nearly fell on his face, torn from distraction with one hand on his zip. Ed froze, then raised an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?"

Ed gave him another flat look, crossed his arms over his chest, and affected his voice to sound like _that_ voice: "You tell me."

Roy worked his mouth, opened and closed, several times before he could process that Ed hadn't been asking a question. That had been a command. A problem? What problem, what had he –

And then Roy remembered lunch in his office, remembered the gag ring in his coat pocket and his embarrassment and frustration – and his inability to persevere.

His first thought was of Ling. The man was likely in the kitchen still, if Roy remembered anything of the last time he'd seen the emperor. But it was just as likely that Ling was lurking somewhere in the hall or on the stairs –

Roy cut that thought off. It wasn't the most appropriate moment to get an erection. "I," he started, but quickly dropped off. "I couldn't."

It was startling, how easy he'd forgotten. He could recall sitting in his office, thinking that Ed would know, that there was no way he couldn't. Roy knew what would happen.

"Couldn't what?" There was no give in Ed's tone.

"Wait," Roy said, mouth rapidly drying as his heart picked up its pace. "You left, and—"

"And you did the exact opposite of what I said," Ed finished for him. He uncrossed his arms and closed the distance between them in three strides. Ed's hands were already working at Roy's fly, and he tugged Roy's pants down to mid-thigh before Roy caught sight of something glinting in Ed's flesh hand.

"You're not still thinking," he started to say, looking sharply at Ed. Ling was downstairs, or somewhere in the house. He might hear, and then –

And then what?

Ed paused, and he held his hand out flat, presenting the ring to Roy in an obvious question. He leaned forward and nudged Roy's jaw with his nose, his automail knuckles pressing against Roy's growing bulge. The choice was Roy's.

A moment of hesitation passed – should it matter? Should he let the entire night go to waste just because Ling was there? – then Roy took the ring in hand, and allowed Ed to grab hold of his cock and tug it out. Roy was still mostly soft, but the moment Ed took the ring and slid it down to the base, he couldn't help the reaction.

Ed was still so close to him. He palmed Roy's cock, urging it fully hard, and spoke directly against his jaw: "I'm giving you one more chance." Then he jerked Roy's pants back up and stepped away. He looked so casual about it.

"Glad to know your mood wasn't spoiled," Roy said. His voice was already pitched strangely, that familiar breathy sound. He swallowed.

"What, by Ling?" Ed snorted. "I'm too used to his shit."

Roy adjusted himself, scowling when his face began to burn. Ed started snickering.

"Keep your hands off," Ed reminded teasingly, but the light tone did nothing to hide the order.

Dazed, Roy nodded and went to set the table.

*

The issue with dining with foreign officials was getting the food _just right_. Roy had had a particularly terrible experience with a Cretan prince and a platter of something that might have been some sort of insect before meeting its demise under heavy layers of grated cheese. Of course, had he the chance, Roy would have _happily_ shared that particular meal with Ling. Filing that thought away – wouldn't a trade pact between Creta, Xing, and Amestris be wonderful? – Roy followed Ed into the dining room, holding the casserole dish _just so_. The last thing he needed was a joke at his expense.

The table was a small one, only having enough room for five chairs. Typically, he wouldn't have brought business-company of Ling's level to Ed's house, but the man seemed pleased enough, seated between Roy and Ed.

"I missed Amestrian food," Ling said wistfully. He'd already worked through his first plate and showed no signs of slowing. "There is just something different about it!"

"Besides the location?" Roy asked, his irritation bubbling to the surface before he had a chance to check himself. Across the table, Ed grinned – and then crammed his mouth full of bread.

Roy wasn't hungry to begin with, too wound up to touch the food on his plate. He'd taken to shoving it around to look like he'd eaten a bit, while at the same time squeezing his thighs together, desperate for relief. It didn't help. Disgusted with himself and the world at large, he grabbed a roll and took a half-hearted bite.

Ed was speaking to Ling again, and spraying crumbs at the emperor in the process. Ling didn't look disgusted in the least. "Al hasn't written me, y'know. What's with that?"

"He's been busy," Ling said cheerfully. "I did tell you about my wives?"

Ed's mouth opened, then closed. Finally, "You're sharing your wives with—you know what, never mind."

"It is the ultimate gift," Ling insisted, "sharing with the emperor—"

"Still don't wanna hear about it," Ed interrupted. "Al can double dip wherever he wants, but seriously, what the fuck?"

"He is a man of good taste," Ling said solemnly. He regarded Ed seriously for a moment before grinning cheekily and adding, "It must run in the family!"

Teeth still clamped down on the bread, Roy choked.

*

Dinner continued in much the same manner: Ling would bait Ed, while simultaneously throwing _something_ in Roy's face. Usually, Roy wasn't even sure what – a weird emphasis, a look, anything at all.

The meal felt more like three hours rather than the twenty-minutes Roy had endured. He couldn't help but shift in his seat ( _was the emperor looking at him funny?_ ), and meeting Ed's eyes was impossible. The man would start laughing. Roy knew it.

And then, surprisingly, just as Roy was trying to decide on the most subtle way to get Ed out of the room, Ling cleared his throat. "I have matters to attend to," he said, dropping the cloth napkin from his lap onto his plate. "Is there a phone?"

"The office," Roy blurted hurriedly. "It's—down the hall. On the left."

Ling smiled and dipped his chin as he stood. "Until later," he offered, and disappeared down the hall. It was – terribly convenient, was all Roy could think. He didn't realize his hands were clenched on the arms of his chair until Ed got to his feet and gestured for Roy to follow.

Then, on his feet, it was difficult not to rush Ed.

"Think that was long enough?" Ed asked casually as they took to the stairs, stepping slowly.

"I think so." Roy's voice was hoarse.

"Your call." Ed grinned and held the door for Roy, nodding him in. "Go ahead and get it off, then."

Roy didn't need any more encouragement than that. He went straight for the bed, kicking off his boots and shimmying out of his pants and boxers, barely pausing to keep his cock from catching on the waistband. Ed watched with blatant amusement, leaning against the back of the door for added effect. But once Roy was down to his skin, already trying to ease the ring off, Ed coughed pointedly.

Roy froze, then leaned back, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor and his hands planted flat behind him. "Can I?" he asked, his tone edged with impatience. He'd been ready for too long, and Ed's games threatened to drive him insane. He wasn't sure how much he could take, not that night. The urgency must have affected his words, because Ed relented – much quicker than usual, at that – nodding curtly at Roy.

"I just want to watch," Ed began as Roy slowly eased the ring off, whimpering involuntarily as it brushed the oversensitive skin of his cock. "Get yourself off." There was plenty unsaid in that order.

Without hesitation, Roy grabbed his cock and went to pull – only to immediately flinch and let go. He wasn't wet enough, not nearly, but Ed solved the dilemma for him, stepping swiftly to the bedside table and grabbing the lube from the drawer. He didn't hand it to Roy, though, instead squeezing out an overeager amount onto his flesh palm and working between both hands. Then, with one last sharp look at Roy, he worked a hand around Roy's cock, slickening it up. Roy gave an involuntary gasp, but Ed kept his touch just light enough to be frustratingly useless.

"Go on," Ed instructed, taking a step back. There was barely a foot of space between them now.

Wetting his lips, Roy grabbed his cock again, his eyes fluttering shut as he tugged. He didn't want to go slow, or to be gentle. He just wanted to wank himself raw and come _now_ – but Ed seemed to have other ideas. If Roy moved too fast, Ed would tell him to slow down. If he went too slow, Ed would lean down closer and tut impatiently. The better Roy followed Ed's instructions, the further he felt from the edge.

Ed's breathing had gone shallow and quick now, and his face burnt red. He put a hand on Roy's wrist and said, "Your fingers," then paused to swallow. "Fuck yourself."

On those words, Roy swore that his whole body prickled with heat. Breathing stuttered, he leaned back further, letting his cock bob between his thighs as he pulled one leg up onto the bed and crooked it to the side, leaving himself open. Ed followed Roy's hand with an intense gaze as it moved between his legs, sliding past his balls to his cleft. His fingers were already so wet from the lube that they slid inside with ease, first one, then a second. He let out a grunt and shifted himself on the bed to get better access. Ed moved with him, putting one hand on the knee of the leg Roy still had off the bed. He moved closer until he and Roy were both looking down, attention focused on the slide of Roy's fingers, the motion punctuated by twin sharp breaths.

"Fuck," Ed muttered, reaching down to rub himself idly through his pants. Roy nearly came right then and there from the look on Ed's face alone, but he held off. They were curling into each other so much that every time Roy slid his fingers out and in, his shoulder would bump Ed. If Ed was there, then why didn't he just _do_ something? Roy was willing to beg, just to get Ed's hand on his cock – or better yet, his mouth. Fuck, what Roy wouldn't do to –

But Ed solved the problem for him, as he tended to do. He grabbed Roy's cock and stroked so hard and so fast that Roy lost all semblance of control, leaving his fingers to just sit inside himself as he pushed into Ed's hand and waited for the word.

"Come on," Ed said, panted the words, " _come on_ , fuck—" Whatever else he had to offer was gone, disappearing within the roar of pleasure in Roy's ears. His body went rigid, jerking, and he curled forward so far his forehead pressed to Ed's shoulder. Then he went slack again, breathing harsh, hot puffs of air into the warm material of Ed's shirt.

Roy’s muscles felt utterly fluid as he leaned into Ed, but Ed's body was still taut, still thrumming with barely restrained arousal. "What now?" Roy asked, unable to keep the lazy, sated drawl from his voice.

"Just—just lean back," Ed muttered, wrenching his belt off and tossing it aside, then going for his zip with shaking hands. Roy leaned back and rested on his hands, letting his leg fall back to the floor, but Ed shook his head at that. "Back up," he said sharply, tugging out his cock. "Both of them, up and open," and desperation was clear in his words. Roy barely got his legs crooked open on the mattress before Ed was standing between them, leaning over Roy with his cock in hand. Roy let his gaze fall from Ed's hooded eyes and slack lips to watch the way he jerked himself, pushing his hips furiously into the circle of his hand, his automail hand resting on the inside of Roy's thigh. Ed's thumb rubbed unsteady circles into his skin.

Roy leaned back on his elbows and cocked his head to the side. "You're going to come on me?" he asked.

Ed nodded, biting his lip too hard to speak. Roy's words seemed to push him that much further, pulling him through the end. When he blew his load across Roy’s stomach, he was nearly climbing onto the bed. Roy let his hand fall lazily over Ed's cock even as it was still pulsing, just to hear Ed's breath catch.

Once the atmosphere stayed, and Roy could once again breathe without sounding as though he'd just run a marathon, he gave Ed a dry look and said, "You're planning on cleaning me up, I hope."

Ed snorted weakly and shoved back to his feet, his cock softening and hanging out the V of his pants. "Don't I always?"

*

Cleaning up Roy was always the best part, and though Ed had never voiced it, he had a feeling Roy knew, given the amount of pampering the man liked to goad him into. Pity he couldn't stick around and watch Roy try to fight sleep for the next hour under the pretense that he'd _eventually get up, didn't Ed know he still had work to do?_

Instead, Ed bowed out. He had something else to see to – something that was, of course, waiting right outside the bedroom door with his hands still down his pants. Ed closed the bedroom door firmly behind him and stepped out into the hall. He didn’t even bother to look surprised.

"Didn't I tell you to stay on the first floor?"

"You were awfully loud," Ling said. "I could have gone to the window. There is a saying in my country." He held up a finger. "The man who waits for a roast duck to fly into his mouth must wait a very, very long time."

Ed scowled. "No there's not. You just made that shit up."

"You're doing it again! You're stomping on my country's traditions! It’s horribly disrespectful."

"No, I'm not," Ed scoffed. "I'm just calling you out for being a dumbass."

Through the door, they both heard the sound of feet hitting the floor. Ling and Ed froze, listening until the footsteps disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

"We, ah, should go downstairs," Ed said, laughing nervously. "He'll probably kill you if he catches you out here."

"It would be well worth it," Ling said decisively. "But I am fond of living, so shall we?" Once down the stairs, he added: "Have you given any consideration to my offer?"

"I told you once," Ed said gruffly. "You'll have to ask Roy that. I can't just say one way or the other."

"Are you not in charge?" Ling asked, genuinely confused. "Given the way you sound…"

Ed went a bit red at that, scratching at the back of his head. "Fuck, I can’t believe you were _listening_ —no, I'm not in charge. It doesn't," he paused. "Roy's more in charge than I am. AND IN ANY CASE," he added loudly, cutting off whatever Ling might have to say, "I am _not_ discussing this with you!"

"Then I'll have to discuss it with the Prime Minister," Ling said. He didn't sound concerned. "If anything, it will make for an interesting trade concession!"

Ed dropped into one of the office chairs, buried his face in his hands, and groaned.


End file.
